


Follow Me Down the Milky Way

by Skowronek, voxofthevoid



Series: Dicks in Space [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Identities, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Crimes & Criminals, Dicks in Space, Katsuki Yuuri Thigh Appreciation, M/M, Pole Dancing, Smut, Space Husbands, Thirsty Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13809612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skowronek/pseuds/Skowronek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: When decorated space officer Viktor Nikiforov is sent on a mission to bring down an infamous smuggler, he does not expect to be swept off his feet by a pole dancer as mysterious as he is deadly.Yuuri Katsuki simply tries to make the galaxy a better place with as little collateral damage as possible, but that's easier said than done when a fleet commander's son sneaks into his ship and a pretty officer with a thigh fetish is after his head and dick both.





	1. In the dead of night you went dark on me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternalsunshine13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsunshine13/gifts).



Yuuri rolls his hips, slowly, letting himself loose in the music.

It’s in his veins now, the rhythm pulsating with the beating of his heart. He writhes and arches and rolls, his muscles stretched in a perfect split. His audience screams.

Yuuri allows himself one sensual smirk, an extension of his adopted persona, but it doesn’t come without true smugness. He lives for this, for the thrill of capturing his audience’s gazes as if he were a burning star.

He rolls and rolls until he can grip the pole steadily and swing one leg around it, moving into a spin. He loves how he can make it look effortless, easy. His audience reacts like he knew they would, with whistles and screams and enthusiastic murmurs, and he blows them a kiss, just a bit on the sly side. It wouldn’t do not to flirt a little.

As he moves, Yuuri lets his gaze sweep over the interior, his look still nothing but sultry. On the opposite side, the DJ raises his hand and sweeps his hair back, nonchalant; in front of Yuuri, a woman sits with her eyes darkened, her tattooed skin glistening in the hot air of the nightclub; a long-haired man follows Yuuri’s every minute movement, enthralled.Yuuri licks his lips.

He lets the music carry him as he lifts himself up in the air. He was born to do this – to soar through the sky like there’s nothing else but the present moment, to pull people towards him like he is the only gravitational force.

It’s almost a pity, Yuuri thinks as he slides down the pole to the final notes of his music. Pole dancing would make such a good profession.

 

* * *

 

“Congratulations,” sounds Phichit’s voice in Yuuri’s ear as he heads backstage. “You really outdid yourself this time. Twelve out of ten, would watch you again.”

Yuuri makes sure the doors are locked and sits in front of the mirror, quickly washing off his stage makeup. His eyeliner comes off easily, but the tiny silver stars decorating his body prove to be another matter.

“Weren’t you supposed to shadow Chris,” Yuuri points out tiredly. The only sound that comes from the earbud is cheerful silence. “And I know for a fact Chris was not in the audience.”

“He wasn’t gonna miss the performance of a lifetime,” Phichit says, affronted like only he can be. He’s somewhere in the neighbouring galaxy, Yuuri suspects, but his fake offence carries all the way into Yuuri’s ear.

This is the part of the job he dislikes the most: the waiting. Phichit chatters idly into his ear and offers nothing substantial, nothing that would put Yuuri at ease; in fact, he makes Yuuri oddly on edge. He’s still restless with energy and able to do absolutely nothing.

“Ten minutes now,” Phichit finally says, suddenly all business, “I’ll lead you to Ciao Ciao. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Yuuri nods, although Phichit can’t see it. He gets up. His makeup might be gone, but he’s still not completely free of the everlasting glitter, his skin catching the yellow light of the lamps. Not for the first time, he wishes he could be armed for this part. Here goes nothing: his performance outfit is way too revealing to carry any gun Yuuri would be comfortable with.

Besides, Phichit always claims Yuuri’s thighs are his best weapon. He just hopes he won’t have to use them tonight.

 

* * *

 

The music echoes in the corridor like aftershocks of a thunder; Yuuri thought he’d be irked by it, but it just excites him. He passes the people languidly, like the dancer he is, still in the role, always in the role – he’s just there to make people feel better, to make them feel as if they can own a part of him – his sultry smile, the tilt of his hips, the kisses he blows.

Assholes. He detests all of them.

“Turn left now,” Phichit tells him and Yuuri does.

He ends up by the bar, the interior all darkened lights and a scent of alcohol. There’s a couple burning absinthe on the table, the flame casting sickly shades on their faces. A single man dances nearby, lost in his head, a high glass in his hand, swinging. The music is nothing but a dull thud from the other side of the club.

Chris waits for him, his shirt still impeccably white, but he sports a hickey on his neck that he didn’t have two hours ago. He licks his lips when he sees Yuuri, walking up to him with the same catlike grace he oozes when they dance together. Yuuri has long stopped wondering how much of Chris’s behaviour is his adopted persona and what really is the real Chris that peaks from under the shell of illusion. When he lets Chris trail a long finger down his still naked, glittered chest, Yuuri’s smile is almost indulgent.

There are no anti-harassment laws on Kynamyia. Especially not when you’re a contracted pole-dancer just like Yuuri, hired for a single night of entertainment. Especially not here, in the high-end club where money changes hands and where Yuuri is going to change some lives. No one bats an eye when Chris lets his hand travel down Yuuri’s inner thigh. It’s only the fact that they have earlier agreed on this that stops Yuuri from showing Chris and the rest of the room why exactly Phichit claims his thighs are his best weapon.

There’s a flicker of light in Chris’s pale green eyes that tells Yuuri he’s way too amused with what is coming next.

“Unlike you to be so tense, beautiful,” he says, and Yuuri wants to snicker and he hears with perfect quality that Phichit does exactly that, the traitor. “Would you like some help stretching this pectineus?”

Yuuri can’t even roll his eyes and that’s the worst thing. He makes a calculated movement, enlacing his fingers with Chris’s in an old, familiar gesture so that both of their hands rest on his thigh.

“Come on,” Phichit snorts, “shall I feed you your lines?”

Yuuri wants to throw him into a black hole.

He lets a smirk dance on his lips and his eyelids fall just a bit heavier. He steps close to Chris, and closer still, until his breath can tickle Chris’s mouth.

“I can think of a few positions that would be just perfect for that,” he says, his voice low but loud enough to be heard.

Chris puts his other hand on the small of Yuuri’s back, deftly leading him out from the room and into a different corridor than Yuuri came from.

“Please tell me neither of you used this line when you wanted to get laid,” Phichit groans into Yuuri’s earbuds.

Yuuri decides to become pointedly silent, letting Phichit interpret it as he wants, even though he realizes this will only lead to more complaining and to other things which are generally insufferable.

“Otabek will meet you in the lobby.”

Good. Yuuri settles on looking seductive and entirely focused on Chris. He grows more restless, the music still echoing in the part of the club they’re in. Thankfully their cover gives them the excuse of urgency as they navigate their way in the crowd. When Phichit announces “five minutes” into his earbud, Yuuri decides to hurry.

He grabs Chris by his tie, earning a surprised whistle from Phichit – that was not in the script and they all know it – and yanks him towards a staircase. It’s almost empty and smells of herbal cigarettes, the kind you can get on the neighbouring planet, and Yuuri moves them through it swiftly. They just need to exit the staircase and take right and Otabek will be there, and they’ll go to Ciao Ciao.

“Oops, guys,” Phichit then says. “We’ve got a tiny bit of a problem here. Otabek’s being followed. A kid in a leopard jacket, blond hair, actually looks kinda familiar - - jeez, all of them dress the same nowadays. It takes a Phichit to know the true meaning of fashion.”

Yuuri sneaks his hand into Chris’s pocket, still playing the lover’s part. Chris carries a mini blaster there, and Yuuri makes sure to get a proper grip as they spiral down the staircase and---

“It’s not working,” Chris mouths to him, “it was a long night, darling.”

Which means they have no power at all. Yuuri doesn’t withdraw his hand. He snuggles closer, the restless feeling still tugging at his mind.

“Yuuri, your three o’clock by the entrance, two men, one with a blaster.”

Damn.

“Leroy’s bodyguards,” Chris whispers, “Looks my lipstick isn’t working that well.”

They step into the corridor in sync, Chris going after the man with the blaster, Yuuri gaining momentum and pushing himself up in one languid movement until he straddles the other man, locking his head and neck with his thighs. He’s long-haired, he now sees, the same pale ponytail from the audience. He grabs by the hair and pulls, squeezing his thighs more. The man staggers and falters. He doesn’t fall. Yuuri _squeezes_ and then he does, and Yuuri twists and there’s way too much noise but at least the music still roars and the corridor is empty, and when he turns, Chris just casually stands next to a fallen body, brushing off an invisible speck of dust from his white shirt with an absolutely feral grin on his face.

“They’re gonna wake up soon,” he says.

At least the man’s alive, Yuuri thinks, even though he’s not quite sure someone who chooses to work for Leroy deserves it.

In any case, they won’t be labelled as murderers. Thank gods for small miracles.

“Your lipstick is not past the expiration date yet, Chris,” Phichit says then as if nothing happened. “The sleeping balm in it should have worked perfectly well.”

They ignore him and move swiftly, Yuuri letting a few strands of hair loose from his slicked back hair, Chris opening two more buttons – Yuuri doesn’t know why, he looks debauched anyway.

“While you were busy doing superhero stuff, I did some actual work,” Phichit says then and Yuuri sees Chris can’t help it, he rolls his eyes. “Tracked Beka’s shadow. Lilia Baranovskaya’s adopted kid. Hacked into ISU’s databases, he’s not an agent. Seems like Beka’s fan? Can you imagine? Our smol DJ being so grown-up and so famous?”

Yuuri goes back to yanking Chris by his tie, tugging so that they finally step into the lobby. Chris’s hand dances on his hip. Yuuri just wants to reach Ciao Ciao and get the fuck away from this planet.

Otabek waits by the exit. Only the whole three years of their friendship let Yuuri see how tense he really is. There’s a kid next to him, blond-haired and equally wound up, only from him, the feeling radiates in waves. Yuuri makes a gesture that could be read as seductive, a tiny movement with his fingers, one of those they had agreed on a few galaxies ago. He tugs Chris until they’re a few steps from the exit and he sees that Beka is following, the kid in tow.

“A childhood friend, apparently,” Phichit tells him. “Just our luck.”

He hopes they can lose the kid, and he decides to trust Beka on this. Beka had rescued Yuuri from a bloody barbarian circus once, just when Yuuri thought he’d be arrested this time – he won’t have any trouble losing a kid in the crowd.

“Get a grip, space boys,” Phichit says. “Ninety seconds.”

It takes fifty-seven seconds to get to Ciao Ciao from there, Yuuri calculates. The ship is parked just on the side of the club. Chris grabs Yuuri’s hand and now it’s him who’s leading, still handsy and still very close to Yuuri.

It wouldn’t do to blow their cover now.

“Oh shit,” Phichit groans then. Yuuri’s just about to ask what’s wrong when a sound follows, a dullish beep that can only mean one thing: all the gates are being closed.

“Attention please,” booms a metallic voice that is not Phichit, “because of a theft on the premises all doors are—“

Yuuri doesn’t hear the rest. Chris drags him forward, uncaring of their act now, and they sneak out of the closing doors and only Phichit’s shout in his ear tells Yuuri that Beka managed to escape, too, and then they run, run, run and Yuuri trips and Chris swears and Yuuri laughs because really, it’s exhilarating.

Ciao Ciao is ready to take off. They reach the ship in record time, its engines already buzzing. Chris climbs into the vessel first, then Yuuri, who barely needs to catch his breath. Mari gives him a lazy wave.

“Hi,” she just says as if nothing happened and leaves for the cargo hold.

Minako pilots the ship, then. Yuuri moves so that Beka can enter, too, and he’s about to turn around when he notices Chris’s look, now not sultry at all.

“You,” he says, “what are you doing here?”

The spaceship roars and shoots into the air without a warning. Yuuri falls to the hard floor and he’s not the only one to do so.

Yuri Plisetsky stares at Chris with pure anger in his eyes.

“I’m with Beka,” he said, “you moron.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Cady, who is wonderful and deserves a horde of puppies. We can't give you puppies, but we can give you dicks in space, so we will. 
> 
> Chapter title from Starset's Dark On Me.
> 
> Special hugs to [Naamah_Beherit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naamah_Beherit/pseuds/Naamah_Beherit) for being awesome and coming up with the planet's name <3
> 
>  
> 
> This is [Cady's](http://eternalsunshine13.tumblr.com) tumblr if you want to give her some more love, which she absolutely deserves cause she's Amazing. And this is [Vox's](http://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com) and [ Kaja's, ](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com) if you want to scream to us about the fic.


	2. I was trying just to get you, and now I'm dying to forget you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presenting more Thighs!!! in Space.
> 
> Chapter title from Starset's Ricochet.

Viktor walks into Lilia’s office and finds his own face on the large screen that takes up one wall, flushed and bug-eyed where it’s trapped between the thighs of the man who still haunts Viktor’s thoughts.

If it’s anyone but Lilia, Viktor would think it coincidence that he walked in at this precise moment, but he knows better. Lilia leaves nothing to chance, and the mistakes always lie in the hands of those lesser creatures under her command.

Like Viktor.

He has prepared himself for this, aware that a verbal lashing awaited him from the moment he woke up on a cold floor with bruises on his throat. But the video, that exact moment frozen in crystalline quality, stops him in his tracks and blanks out his thoughts. It’s hard to take his eyes off the muscled thighs wrapped around his head, harder still to shake off the memory of how they felt. Viktor can’t help staring at his own face, wondering if the look on it seems as perversely erotic to Lilia as it does to him.

He hopes not but the trouble she went to get an angle of the event that actually shows his expression makes him doubt.

“Commander,” he greets when he finally manages to tear his eyes away from the screen.

It’s not surprising that Lilia is already looking at him nor is the frost in her gaze unexpected, but every self-preservation instinct in Viktor flares in alarm all the same.

“Captain Nikiforov.”

Lilia says nothing else, and Viktor has to fight not to squirm under her icy regard. He gives in easily, bowing his head in a show of contrition as he owns up to his failure.

He keeps his account of what happened at Leroy’s party short and succinct. Lilia already knows everything, and Viktor will do himself no favors by recounting in detail the dreary start to the affair and the vision on a pole that changed everything. The same man later took Viktor down with a speed no one has managed since his days in the Academy, but he’s not going to think about that now.

When he’s finished, the silence looms loud.

“Pathetic,” is Lilia’s verdict and despite expecting it, Viktor can’t quite swallow his grimace. “I saw the videos, Viktor, examined the holoplays. You let yourself be seduced by your target.”

Well, really, seduced is too grand a word because Viktor only _watched_ , and – wait.

“Target? My target was Katsuki Yuuri.”

Technically, it’s all of the smugglers, but it’s a known fact that Katsuki is their leader. He’s also the only one whose identity is known to them. Viktor was to focus on him while Georgi, Mila, and Yuri kept an eye out for anyone else. It’s clear now that the pole dancer was a part of them, but for him to be Viktor’s mark…

“The dancer was _Katsuki_?”

Lilia’s face doesn’t so much as twitch but she still manages to convey her crushing disappointment in him. Her arm floats over her desk and suddenly, the video vanishes and in its place are two images. One is familiar; it’s the dancer from the beginning of his routine, leaning back on the pole, his body arched and stretched taut as if inviting you to take a bite. The other is equally familiar from long hours spent studying it from every angle – it’s the blurry profile of a man, his only identifiable features a mop of dark hair and blue-rimmed glasses.

The dancer, with his slicked hair and savage grin, doesn’t seem like the same person.

Lilia runs a facial recognition program, and Viktor knows even before he sees the results that it will be a match.

“Oh,” he says.

“He is still our only lead. Any images of the rest, even his companion when you and Georgi accosted him, have been corrupted by their hacker.”

“He was tall,” Viktor tells her, recalling his very brief glimpse of Katsuki’s partner. “Blond.”

“Blond,” Lilia repeats drily. She doesn’t need to look at Viktor’s hair, long and mussed and dyed a pale gold, to make her point. Hair can be faked, as can eyes and even skin. And with a hacker of such caliber working for Katsuki, it’s a miracle that they even know as much as they do.

At his most skeptical, Viktor thinks that everything they know are things Katsuki lets them know. But that’s ridiculous.

“You failed,” Lilia says, blunt and brutal. “There will be consequences. I am lenient with you, Viktor, because for all your eccentricities, you are efficient. That is not what I’ve seen today.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor says as is expected. He’s too tired to be genuinely contrite, but he lowers his head and hopes she won’t notice.

He’s a little confused too. This isn’t the first mission he has failed. A perfect record is a fool’s dream, but Viktor’s is the best in the academy. Failure is always met with reprimand but not this level of severity. Lilia’s talking like he has let a bunch of terrorists get away.

“You will be barred from missions Class A and above until you’ve retrieved Yura. You’re dismissed.”

Viktor’s head snaps up so quickly that he hears something creak.

“Yura? What are you talking about? He’s in the hotel.”

Lilia stares at him like he’s grown three more heads. It’s the first real expression she’s shown him. He gapes back with the full force of his confusion.

Several long minutes later, her fingers fly over her desk and another video starts playing.

It’s Yuri, talking to the DJ at Leroy’s party. The DJ’s face is thoroughly blurred, and even Viktor can only remember a vague impression of dark hair. It’s impossible to hear what they’re saying over the music, and they’re both at the wrong angle to let him read their lips. There’s a few minutes of hushed, intimate conversation. When the DJ slips out of the room, Yuri follows. Cameras track them to one of the rear doors in the mansion. There, the feed cuts off abruptly.

“The DJ is suspected to be one of the smugglers. Yuri is with them. It is not unlikely that he went willingly.”

Viktor can’t quite tear his eyes off the screen to look at Lilia.

“He sent me a message, said he was tired and going back to the hotel. I didn’t see it until afterward, but I didn’t think much of it.”

Yuri wasn’t there in the same capacity as the rest of them. He’s still a cadet and an exceptionally gifted one. That and being Lilia’s son is enough to get him out on the field faster than most could even dream of, but he’s not on active duty. It’s mostly for experience, to observe and learn, not that Yuri will ever be content with just that.

In hindsight, his message was strange. But Viktor, in the middle of sorting out the mess with Leroy and reeling from the attack that knocked him out, was all too willing to accept it at face value.

He regrets it with a sharp, searing pang.

“I had no idea. I’m sorry, Li - Commander.”

Lilia doesn’t seem any sympathetic.

“Your orders remain unchanged.”

Viktor nods, straightening.

“Shall I start now?”

“You will be useless as you are now. Go home. You have twelve hours.”

Viktor salutes, spins on his heels, and walks out.

He doesn’t turn back to see if Lilia looks the same, cold and unmoved even with her son missing and potentially a criminal, with Viktor out of her sight. He knows she will. After all, it’s why he admires her so much.

 

* * *

 

Makkachin greets him with her usual enthusiasm, her love and approval of him untainted by botched missions and lost subordinates. It’s a relief to sink to his knees on the floor and let Makkachin bowl him over so that he’s hunched against the door with her considerable weight in his lap.

He doesn’t think Makkachin ever really understood that she’s no longer a tiny, easily lifted puppy, and Viktor doesn’t have the heart to tell her. He would happily carry her around if the added weight of her cybernetic parts doesn’t make it nigh impossible. But his lap is a worthy sacrifice and even as his legs go numb, Viktor is content to just clutch her close, running his palms over soft fur and cool metal in a way that never fails to be soothing.

“I met an interesting guy, Makka,” he tells her. “The one that got away. But he took little Yura with him so we’ll need to go after them. How do you feel about that, sweetheart?”

Makkachin licks his face.

“Yeah, I’m excited too.”

Eventually, he has to rise, nudging Makkachin to the side and stretching his legs, grimacing at the pins and needles that prick at his skin.

He can’t remember the last time he ate, but he’s not hungry so he skips the kitchen and makes a beeline for the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he goes. The hot shower feels like heaven, and Viktor is tempted to draw himself a bath, but there’s lethargy tugging at his limbs and the thoughts in his head are devolving into a curious jumble of half-words and images as they tend to when he’s forgone sleep for over twenty-four hours. He does take the time to wash the dye off his hair because it always gets frizzy when this sort of cheap dye stays in it too long. Plus, blond isn’t really his color.

The whole thing takes less than half an hour, and Viktor emerges from the bathroom feeling marginally more human.

Makkachin isn’t in the bedroom, and Viktor puts off face-planting on the bed long enough to feed her. Once in the kitchen, his stomach seems to wake up, arguing spiritedly with the rest of him that just wants to sleep.

He eats cereal out of the box, Yuri’s favorite, ignoring the little pang that thought brings.

Viktor will find him.

There’s the question of whether Yuri wants to be found. Everything in his body language indicated that he was leaving with the DJ willingly, but neither Viktor nor Lilia has any idea what they talked about prior to that. For all they know, the man could have threatened Yuri, except he can’t quite picture fiery, impulsive Yuri going along quietly with threats. He doesn’t know what to think, but he doesn’t like the idea of Yuri being anywhere near Katsuki Yuuri and his crew.

Katsuki is a whole other conundrum.

Viktor finds his mind lingering on the man, flitting between oft-read reports of his feats to the solid reality of him wrapped around a pole with gleaming muscles on display. It’s a little ridiculous that Viktor can remember with pinpoint precision the pattern of glitter spread over his body, that the memory of it still makes heat pool in his gut.

He’s tired. He wishes his dick would get the idea.

It doesn’t.

Viktor spends a whole fifteen minutes tossing about in bed, trying not to think about Katsuki’s thighs and failing miserably, before he gives up, throws off the covers, and wraps a hand around his cock.

It’s already half-hard, just from the memory of Katsuki dancing.

Then again, there’s no _just_ about it. That was a sight that could melt rocks.

Viktor is infinitely more malleable than rocks.

There’s a sliver of guilt as he closes his eyes and pictures Katsuki because this man is a criminal, and Viktor is supposed to catch him, but that’s quickly buried under the phantom sensation of a pair of thighs, hot and _strong_ , wrapped around his head and throat, stealing his breath and his mind as dark eyes stare into his.

Viktor doesn’t know if he could have stopped Katsuki; maybe if he had done more than paw weakly at his back when he choked Viktor into submission, maybe if he hadn’t frozen at the sight of the dancer from the party stalking towards him with a dark promise in his eyes, maybe if he hadn’t been bewitched by the way Katsuki worked a pole dripping sex…

In hindsight, he never stood a chance.

And he doesn’t stand a chance now, fucking into his fist and muffling moans against his palm, thick thighs and flashing eyes flooding his mind. He comes embarrassingly fast, spilling against his hand as the Yuuri in his mind traps his head between his legs. Viktor strokes himself through it, not wanting it to end but forced to stop when the sensation becomes too much.

“Well, this is troubling,” he mutters, throwing his clean arm over his eyes.

Of all the people to thirst after, it just has to be the most notorious smuggler in all the known galaxies and one he has to hunt down to boot. He likes to think that Lilia exaggerates about his “eccentricities” but this time, maybe she’s right. Katsuki Yuuri will be trouble.

Viktor doesn’t know why he can’t stop smiling.

 

* * *

 

The next morning finds him and Makkachin aboard Yakov, Makka all lit up in anticipation of the upcoming mission. Viktor is excited too but there’s an unusual undercurrent of nervousness, the likes of which he hasn’t felt for the better part of a decade.

He pushes it down and busies himself connecting Makkachin to Yakov. It’s a routine process, soothing in its banality. Makkachin stands perfectly still while Viktor straps delicate wires all over her head. Yakov is equally cooperative, the ship’s primary interface flashing a familiar blue before settling back into dull black.

It’s the first time in days that things have gone well. Viktor doesn’t have much hope that it’ll last.

He enters Yuri’s data on Yakov, grinning down at Makka whose left eye flares red.

“Do you have his Scent?”

She gives a happy yip and wags her robotic tail.

“Let’s go find our little tiger, Makka.”

 

 

 


	3. Nothing could ever stop us from stealing our own place in the sun

  
  


“This is the sloppiest _adagio_ I’ve seen you perform since the day you decided to become a smuggler,” Minako announces, coming up to Yuuri. She places her hand on the barre and stretches, waving her leg wildly, her long loose cardigan fluttering around her waist in a dark wave. “You don’t do it like _this,_ Yuuri. Who did you want to seduce with that, hm? I can guarantee you that if you move like this again, people are not gonna keep their eyes fixed on you. They’re gonna look away and I, for once, can’t blame them. Now – again. Seduce the hell out of your audience this time.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer  - at least not verbally. Instead he closes his eyes, letting himself fall into the persona he’s been working on, a dark bad boy of the ballet world; he’d let you glimpse the tantalizing lines of his body, let you drown in his smirk, and then he’d be gone, lost in the dark void of the outer space, aeons away; he’d leave you breathless, helpless, wanting – but that would be later. For now, you can’t tear your gaze away.

He finishes with a soft, lingering sway of his hand, opening his eyes only to glance into Minako’s, dark, assessing.

“Good,” she declares. “Almost good enough. As good as you did ten years ago when you were a kid, Yuuri. What’s the matter today? You’re – distracted, I think.”

Yuuri shrugs. Minako doesn’t like the gesture and he takes delight in watching a grimace cross her face. He slides one leg along the barre until he can feel a tug in his hamstring, and then moves the other leg down the floor, holding the barre with both hands until he finds himself in a straddle split. Only then does he look at Minako.

“I can’t shake off this feeling that something’s gonna blow up,” he tells her. Ballet always calmed him down, more so than other types of dance, though he enjoyed them all – and he had to be good at them. The best. He’s not the best today.

She huffs at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You know as well as I do that Mari keeps Ciao Ciao in perfect condition,” she says. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be able to do this warp and escape Kynamyia so quickly.”

“You know I don’t mean _that_ ,” Yuuri replies, “Ciao Ciao is a perfectly reliable spacecraft. We wouldn’t be on it otherwise.”

Phichit found the spaceship – back then still called Celestino – sending automatic distress signals from a remote planet full of radioactive scrap metal. It was Mari and Chris who recovered it and then they all worked their magic, tweaking it until it was ran smoothly and ran fast.

They had to be fast, or they’d be in jail, and Yuuri quite enjoyed his life of smugglery outside the bars, thank you very much.

“So if it’s not Ciao Ciao,” Minako says, “then what is it? And you know you could do an oversplit, Yuuri. You’re slacking off.”

“You ask as if you don’t know,” Yuuri tells her, obediently deepening the stretch. “It’s this Plisetsky kid.”

 

* * *

 

They took him to the command room. He went willingly enough, other than a few scowls; Yuuri did not miss the glances the kid kept stealing at Beka, and neither did he overlook the wide-eyed expression on his face whenever he looked at Yuuri.

He was barely out of his teens, Yuuri thought, or maybe even younger, but no more than eighteen if he was a cadet at the Academy as Phichit’s hacking had told them.

Mari gave them a lazy smirk and decided to head back to the cargo hold. Yuuri couldn’t blame her; they hadn’t robbed the wealthiest men on Kynamyia just to neglect their treasure now, and as far as Yuuri was concerned, treasure was the right word to use.

Chris stood by the door in case the kid tried to escape, which Yuuri knew he wouldn’t do. He shot Yuuri a wink, tilting his hip into a familiar seducing pose, and Yuuri thought that even if the kid was dumb enough to try to run away now, going by the disgust written on his face, he’d be too repulsed to move past Chris.

Yuuri hoped that Phichit would give them more details on Plisetsky, but his friend fell oddly silent. A crackling sound travelled right into Yuuri’s earbud instead. Yuuri silently prayed they were not being hacked.

The kid hovered around Otabek, who just raised an eyebrow at Yuuri and nodded. But that wasn’t enough for them – not now, when they knew the kid was Commander Baranovskaya’s adopted son, and when they’d had trouble losing Baranovskaya before.

It was because of her that Yuuri had begun to drew attention to himself, throwing himself into the spotlight and keeping the rest of the crew out of sight. A decoy, Mari once called him, but they all knew he was so much more than that. And as far as they were concerned, now was the first time an associate of Baranovskaya saw the crew’s real faces.

“Now,” Yuuri said, keeping his voice quiet. “Welcome to our ship, Yuri Plisetsky. Care to say hello to your mum from us when we drop you back?”

The kid sent him a glare for a change. Yuuri had enough of his earlier stares; and it was good to know, too, that he could cause such a reaction while he was still half dressed and covered in starry glitter.

“Why would I go back home when I just got here?” he asked.

“Perhaps because you don’t want to be here,” Minako said, circling him slowly, her long cardigan billowing like a cloud, and Yuuri knew she was enjoying it, “perhaps you’re only here because this way, Baranovskaya can trace us.”

“She doesn’t know!” the kid shouted then, and Yuuri could see he was as afraid as angry. Otabek touched his arm – Yuuri was surprised that the kid let him, really - and murmured something quietly.

“He’s just convincing him we can be trusted,” Phichit’s voice rang in Yuuri’s ear. “Sorry I was missing in action, by the way. My nachos won’t eat themselves.”

Yuuri wanted to scream, and he knew he couldn’t. Between Phichit, Plisetsky, and the cargo they were smuggling across the galaxy, he wasn’t sure what was going to make him explode first.

He could see Minako sending him a concerned glance, and here it was, one of his personas sneaking up to him as if he were still dancing. He used to separate himself from them – _it’s not me, I can’t do this Eros thing, Minako,_ he used to say – but he now learnt to accept them as a part of himself, an extension of Katsuki Yuuri, 27, smuggler extraordinaire, who was going to protect his stolen treasure to his last breath.

“You’re going to tell us everything now,” he said, calm like a void, “or we will drop you on the closest radioactive planet we can find.”

They wouldn’t, of course. Yuuri wasn't a monster. Plisetsky wouldn’t even know how to beep distress signals like Ciao Ciao had done. He would never do that to a person – well, maybe he would to the rich guys they’d just robbed.

Bluff or not, it worked.

“Okay, okay!” the kid said, crossing his arms – he looked like a mirror image of Minako now, but reversed, shorter than her, paler, blonder. “They don’t know anything, okay? My mother doesn’t know. I mean, okay, I was a part of this mission to capture Katsuki so I went with Viktor to the room where he was dancing – you’re _disgusting,_ by the way.”

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Phichit narrated into Yuuri’s ear immediately, “31, tall, silver hair, was dyed blond, undercover as a bodyguard. Baranovskaya’s best operative, perfect track record until you happened, Yuuri. “

Oh, right. The handsome one with the long hair.

“And you just so happened to run into your old childhood friend,” Yuuri replied. It didn’t seem fit to mention how he knew about Plisetsky’s connection to Beka; let the kid wonder, he thought. Phichit cackled into the earbud.

“Such a power move, Yuuri, almost like your thighs.”

 _Shut up,_ Yuuri thought, hoping the message would be transmitted through the speaker anyway. Their treasure was in potential danger and here they are, joking away, wasting time.

He really wanted to join Mari in the cargo hold.

“You’re idiots, all of you,” Plisetsky then glared, and it was such an unexpected reaction that Chris whistled. Minako just raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Beka used a hand signal when you were out there doing gods-know-what on the pole, right? It’s the same signal I taught him when we were kids. You morons. It means _all clear,_ right?”

“Oh shit,” Phichit said, and the following sound made it obvious he took a bite of his nachos.

“Right,” Otabek confirmed. Yuuri thought they needed to have a conversation about security soon, but he was going – gleefully – to leave it to Mari.

“So I think, who could be that guy who uses my signal and who also looks like my childhood friend, Beka,” Plisetsky said, and Yuuri absolutely did not imagine the mean glint in his eyes. “Could it really be Beka? Amazing! Inexplicable! Could he be involved in this smuggling thing we’re kinda trying to stop, only Viktor is far too gone to be stopping anything?”

“You know what,” Phichit said into the earbud, “let’s just adopt the kid. I like him.”

“My friend was a nice person. He liked cats and he wanted to do good things because he didn’t agree that this galaxy sucked so much. So, I thought, if he smuggled anything, it had to be a good thing, right?”

Yuuri thought it was unfair he had to go through this while still covered in starry glitter.

“So you just decided to blow your cover and approach him,” Yuuri said. “Very clever. Did you consider that your childhood friend might have changed?”

Plisetsky gave him a cold, cold look. Yuuri thought he must have learnt it from Baranovskaya.

“You really are an idiot,” he said. “Beka? He would have never.”

Yuuri couldn’t really argue with that. Next to Plisetsky, Otabek looked almost sheepish; he shuffled his foot slightly, which he wouldn’t have done otherwise.

“So,” Plisetsky said, “if I’m already here and you know I’m not a spy, can you tell me what you’re smuggling?”

“Hold on,” Chris interrupted. “You mean to tell us they sent you on a mission to capture us and didn’t even tell you what we were doing there?”

“They just told me to watch and learn!” Plisetsky said. “And all I got to watch was pole dancing!”

Yuuri sighed. He wanted to go down to the cargo hold, surround himself with their treasure, take a shower, and find the part of Ciao Ciao that Plisetsky would not be allowed on, and then stay there until they could drop the treasure off to their safe place.

Minako sent him a look that clearly meant she was thinking the same as he did. If they didn’t show Plisetsky what exactly they were hiding in the cargo hold, he’d investigate on his own.

And Yuuri knew exactly just protective Mari would get over their treasure.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you.”  

 

* * *

 

“The kid is trouble,” Minako says now as if reading Yuuri’s thoughts. He hums in agreement, coming out of the oversplit. He doesn’t enjoy the situation they’re in at all. Phichit’s tricks show that Viktor Nikiforov is a perfectly capable operative, even though he seemed to be temporarily made immobile by Yuuri’s thighs.

Yuuri thinks the man can’t be immobile much longer, and the space officers now have a kid to recover alongside the treasure.

He wants to dance away this thought; they can’t do anything now, not before they come out of the warp, and Yuuri hates waiting.

“Mari’s looking for you,” Phichit then says into his ear. “Beka is with Yuri but the treasure is left unsupervised.”

Minako moves toward the door before Yuuri manages to react.

“You have fun with Mari,” she tells him, “work out what’s going on. I’m gonna go and – supervise the treasure.”

Mari comes in moments later and immediately takes off her black hoodie. She has an old, frayed tank top underneath, and Yuuri knows she’s gonna flex her muscles and spar with him until they both end up on the ground, grinning.

“How’s the treasure?” Yuuri asks while she warms up.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking, darling,” Chris says. He enters the room and immediately begins his own stretches.

It’s gonna be two on one, then. Yuuri can take it.

“Remember you’ve got thighs, Yuuri,” Phichit snickers into his ear. “Use them. We can’t let you get out of shape, right?”

Right, Yuuri thinks, and he attacks.

It’s different than going at Nikiforov earlier. It’s both easier and harder when Yuuri knows his opponents, and he knows these two as well as he ever could. Mari’s all pure strength and dirty tricks; Chris is suave even in a fight, especially in a fight, and Yuuri would get flustered if he hadn’t made Chris land on his butt more than once this week only. So Yuuri moves and he grabs and shoves and blocks, and he smirks and he pants and swerves and he throws and then there it is, the laughter he missed, and he launches himself into the air and--

“Holy shit, Yuuri!” Mari complains, “that was my move first!”

Yuuri sends her a distracted grin from where he keeps his thighs firmly locked around Chris’s neck. Mari stops fighting, just observes with a lazy smirk as Chris all but chokes into a patch of skin just above Yuuri’s groin. Yuuri pushes forward and overbalances them both until Chris falls butt-first to the floor, and only then does Yuuri allow himself to untangle his body from Chris’s and stands up, breathless.

“You know full well you don’t need to go at it with your thighs, Yuuri,” Mari says, “you’ve got the calves for it.”

Chris takes a loud breath and staggers to his feet as he stands up.

“Really, Mari,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse, “but where would be the fun in that?”

“I’ve just taped you for our watching pleasure,” Phichit then chirps into Yuuri’s ear. “Good fight, Yuuri. Keep it up and these rich fuckers won’t take their eyes off you.”

Yuuri thinks that’s the point, after all, being enticing enough to charm the hell out of them, to make them lose their minds and their treasure, to slip into their villas and palaces, into their clubs and restaurants, into their hearts if he has to.

He’s good at it, Yuuri is.

“So,” Mari says, “Minako got take out while you guys were out retrieving the treasure.”

“The true hero we deserve,” Chris declares. He’s out of the door even before Yuuri, who is rather eager to follow.

“You’re not eating now,” Phichit then tells them. Yuuri knows well the vicious note of glee in his voice and he’s afraid of it. “Go to the cargo hold right this second. The treasure’s attacking Minako and the kid.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Phichit,” Mari asks aloud as they run towards the cargo, “have you got it?”

“Already on it,” Phichit says, his voice clear and loud in both of their earbuds, “It’s too important to miss. And Beka needs to watch it and he’s in the kitchen guarding the food.”

Yuuri doesn’t know who is he guarding the food against, but Ciao Ciao is a dangerous ship and they’re not a peaceful crew either. Sometimes it’s better not to ask.

They hop down the winding metal staircase just as Chris pushes the cargo hold door open.

Minako sits with her backs to the wall, laughing uncontrollably. Yuri is on the floor, helpless and disgruntled, and one look at him is enough for Yuuri to let out a snicker.

They’re surrounded by puppies, both of them; dogs of all sizes, small dogs, bigger dogs, dogs with mechanical ears and discoloured fur; dogs with laser paws and shining eyes. They waggle their tails and attack Yurio with kisses, and there’s one blue-coloured dachshund.

“Get them off me!” Yuri screams.

Yuuri happily does. Dogs climb on his lap and there’s one small pink puppy that begins to lick his foot and Yuuri tries to hug him, his belly hurting from laughter.

“You’re all so precious,” he coos, “so so precious. Our treasure.”

Yuri huffs and manages to stand up, although there’s still one small puppy in his arms, brown with red and purple spots. He holds her reluctantly.

“You’re not even a cat,” he tells her. “Stop it with the eyes.”

“Filmed it,” Phichit whispers.

Yuuri gives in and kisses the top of the pink puppy’s head.

“Our treasure,” he coos again because really, he can’t help it and he’s not gonna be blamed for it. He risked his life for these dogs.

“These?” Yuri asks them. “These dogs? The _dogs_ are your treasure? You went to Kynamyia to smuggle dogs out of Leroy’s club?”

“Chill, kid,” Mari says. “It’s not like it’s the first time.”

Minako nods, her face so grim that Yuuri suddenly remembers the one time she pretended to be the Venusian ambassador to Kynobrotos and casually seduced a half of their politicians and Lilia Baranovskaya just to sneak Yuuri and Chris into their homes during parties so that they could smuggle the dogs out.

After that mission, Yuuri decided to throw himself into pole dancing.

“Experiments on dogs are only banned on seventy-three planets,” Minako tells Yuri now. “But what about the rest of the galaxy? Dogs are clever. They can be made even cleverer. They can be someone’s _profit.”_

“I know a dog with mechanical parts,” Yuri says. “And—“

“There’s a difference if you save a dog’s life or if you make it hell,” Yuuri tells him. The puppy licks his face. It’s covered with glitter now because Yuuri’s glitter is everywhere.

“You tell him, Yuuri,” Phichit cheers. “You risked your thighs for these doggos.”

Yuri stares at him, and then back at the puppy in his arms. The puppy closes its eyes, clearly happy.

“You can stay in the cargo hold if you want,” Mari grins at him.

 

* * *

 

Yuri stays in the cargo. Beka brings a tray of Kynamyian takeout down and eats with him, and Phichit snaps a few pictures with them surrounded by the dogs. Yuuri instantly sets all of them as background wallpapers on Ciao Ciao’s computers.

They come out of the warp soon after, Chris pulling them out of it with the same smooth ease with which he charms pants and wallets off. They’re gonna reach the safe haven soon, Yuuri knows, and then  - as always – they’re going to go on a new adventure.

He finally takes a quick shower, getting rid of the glitter, and forgoes his workout clothes for a dark leather jacket. They’re going to land soon and he has an image to maintain.

He’s just about to go down to the cargo hold and give the puppies some hugs when Phichit hums into his earbud.

“Yuuri,” he says, “there’s a ship approaching.”

Phichit activates Ciao Ciao’s emergency noise before Yuuri can react. Yuuri suddenly feels extremely grateful he wasn’t in the shower because meeting a potentially hostile spaceship captain with his dick out is not exactly high on his to-do list.

He runs to the bridge and finds Chris already there, applying his deadly lipstick just in case. Minako follows soon after. Phichit mutes the emergency beeping.

“Mari’s with the treasure,” Minak says. “Beka and Yuri too. What’s the plan?”

“Phichit?” Yuuri asks. “What’s the status?”

Phichit’s voice immediately comes from the loudspeakers. A holoplay appears, then another, a huge ship looming in front of them like a great bug.

“The ship is Lilia Baranovskaya’s Yakov. Just checked and Baranovskaya’s still logged in at the SPACE HQs. Nikiforov presumably on board.”

“What’s the plan?” Chris repeats after Minako.

“He’s signalling he wants to come aboard,” Minako notices just when Yuuri does.

Yuuri stares down at the holoplay for a second and then takes a breath, squaring his shoulders. He touches his earbud so that he can speak to everyone on Ciao Ciao.

“Guys, we’re going with Plan Murder Strut.”

Mari leaves first, silent, with a single wink sent his way. Minako comes up to him first and wastes a precious few seconds sleeking Yuuri’s still wet hair back. She then follows Mari without a word.

But it’s Chris who lingers the longest, light dancing in his green eyes. He comes up to Yuuri just like Minako did, only then he cups Yuuri’s face and plants a single kiss on his lips.

“Thought the lipstick could be a nice touch on you,” he says, “and an extra weapon just in case.”

Yuuri’s not even surprised at this point. Chris wastes another second as his eyes travel down Yuuri’s legs.

“Not that you need any more, though,” he finally grins. “Give him a show.”

He finally strides down after Mari and Minako. Yuuri is left alone on the bridge, staring at the holoplay of the other ship which is now connecting with theirs.

“He’s gonna enter in ten seconds,” Phichit quietly says.

Yuuri nods, his back straight, and begins a purposeful walk down the bridge and towards the door. Nikiforov, he thinks, deserves a very warm welcome.

It’s time to slip into the persona he’s just left on Kynamyia.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Starset's It Has Begun.


	4. I will travel the distance in your eyes, interstellar light years from you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thighs and working up to the dicks ;)

Viktor’s honestly surprised when he receives permission to dock.

Asking to be let aboard Ciao Ciao – and really, what a name, not that Viktor has any room to talk given that he’s on what’s essentially regurgitated scrap metal that everyone in the fleet, Lilia included, has a love-hate relationship with – was a half-hearted but also hopeful measure. Yuri’s in there. Viktor can’t just blindly attack, even though he doubts that any amount of diplomacy will work on these criminals.

It’s not like wants to go to Ciao Ciao because Katsuki and his thighs will be there. No – that’s ridiculous.

And then the ship’s crew agreed to let him in, and now Viktor doesn’t really know what to do. He blindly puts Yakov through the motions. Beside him, Makkachin is excited; he feels a little bad that he’ll be leaving her behind, but Makka isn’t combat-trained and he’d rather die than see her hurt.

“Watch Yakov for me, sweetheart. I’ll be right back with Yura.”

Makkachin looks at him like she knows he’s lying but sweetly licks his face when he bends to give her a goodbye kiss. There are perks to having her as his partner; kissing his human colleagues would have broken all kinds of regulations.

Viktor happily distracts himself imagining Georgi’s reaction if Viktor were to kiss him until it’s time for him to step out and face Kats – whoever’s waiting for him out there.

It’s Katsuki.

Viktor mentally pats himself on the back for not so much as wobbling at the sight of him, despite the way his knees go damnably weak.

Then he gets a good, long look at the man, and he does stumble.

Katsuki in shorts that barely covered his ass and a torso full of glitter was one thing. Katsuki in pants that hug his fucking thighs and a sleeveless leather jacket, leaning casually against the wall and eyeing Viktor like he wants to break him open and eat him alive – that’s a whole other monster.

“Katsuki,” he manages to croak.

 _Please step on me_ , Viktor doesn’t say but it’s a close thing.

“Officer Nikiforov,” Katuski drawls, still in that indolent pose. Were his lips always so red? “Or can I call you Viktor?”

“That…would be inappropriate.”

Katsuki _pouts_.

“But it’s fine!” Viktor hurries to add, because what’s in a name. Katsuki can call him – no, no, not going there.

Katsuki brightens and there’s something thrillingly terrifying about his smile. He pushes away from the wall. Viktor can see his arm muscles working and has to swallow through a very dry mouth.

“Thank you, Viktor. I like using the names of the people I’m going to wreck.”

It’s said so offhandedly, with a little conspiratory wink that stalls Viktor’s higher brain functions, that he doesn’t quite register Katsuki stalking towards him, one, two, three long steps until his stances shifts into something that’s intimately familiar despite Viktor having seen it only once.

He throws himself out of the way just before Katsuki leaps, and even as a part of him –mostly his dick – is disappointed at missing the embrace of those thighs, Viktor does have some sense left in his head.

Katsuki doesn’t even seem startled, smoothly recovering and landing on the balls of his feet with a liquid catlike grace that has Viktor gasping.

“It makes me feel like we’re close,” Katsuki tells him, resuming their one-sided conversation without missing a beat.

There’s something predatory in the slant of his mouth.

Viktor belatedly remembers that he’s carrying a blaster.

In the end, it doesn’t do him much good. He’s hesitant to shoot Katsuki and warning him off won’t help him either, not when Katsuki merely grins like he knows Viktor’s bluffing. Even as Viktor drops the weapon and matches Katsuki in his own game, he knows he’s going to lose.

Viktor moves and blocks and tries to dodge; but Katsuki’s always there, half a movement ahead, easily sidestepping Viktor’s attempts to take him out. And all the while, he’s grinning. It’s a breathless infinity later that his back hits the floor, Katsuki’s thighs around his throat, his hand in Viktor’s hair, rough and tight.

“You’re _easy_ ,” Katsuki breathes, laughter threading his voice. “Hell, look at you.”

Viktor, gasping into the warm inside of Katsuki’s thigh, is in no position to look at himself.

The soft-steel vice around his neck tightens, and Viktor fruitlessly paws at Katsuki, choking out a mangled plea, uncertain if he’s begging to be released or for _release_.

“Sssh,” Katsuki shushes him, the hand not buried in Viktor’s hair coming up to pat his cheek. His voice rings strangely in Viktor’s ears. “It’s alright, don’t fight. I’d hate to mar such a pretty face.

The last thing he sees is Katsuki’s knife-sharp smile.

 

* * *

 

Waking up with the telltale ache of fresh bruises on his throat is becoming a habit. For a moment, Viktor’s disgruntlement over that supersedes his surprise at waking up at all.

The sight he opens his eyes to is surreal enough to half-convince him that it’s a dream.

It’s Makkachin, sprawled out on her metallic side to leave her soft bits exposed for scratching. It’s a familiar sight; what makes it incongruous is Katsuki Yuuri sitting on the ground with her head in his lap and his fingers obediently moving in her fur.

“What the fuck.”

Makkachin lifts her head and wags her tail at Viktor before laying it back on Katsuki’s thighs. Katsuki himself just smiles at Viktor, faint and gentle, unlike his prior smirks.

“Such a pretty girl you’ve got here,” Katsuki tells him, still petting Makkachin. “She loves you a lot. Got very worried until I let her check if you were alright.”

“I – she’s my partner.”

Viktor doesn’t know why he said that, but the narrow gaze Katsuki shoots him makes him want to squirm, which is fundamentally unfair because he’s not the one in the wrong here.

“I know,” Katsuki says at length. He smiles, bright and angelic. “She’s happy and in perfect condition. Good, because I’d have killed you in your sleep otherwise.”

Viktor blinks at him, caught off guard.

“That’s ironic,” he finally says, “coming from an animal trafficker.”

Katsuki’s smile doesn’t so much as flicker. His lips are very red.

“How are you feeling, Viktor?”

That jolts him into taking stock of his situation. He’s on the ground in what seems to be the ship’s mess hall, propped up against a wall. His regulation jacket is gone, as is anything that could potentially be used as a weapon.

“I’m not restrained,” is what he says, surprise prompting him to voice the thought.

“I like to wait for the third date before tying my men up.”

Viktor chokes.

Makkachin shoots to her feet, trotting over to him and making soft, whining noises. Viktor sees Katsuki rise through blurry eyes.

“Are you…okay?”

“Hngnugh,” says Viktor.

He hacks and coughs through an already sore throat, and suddenly, Katuski’s there with a glass of water, tipping Viktor’s head back with surprisingly gentle fingers and holding the glass to his lips. The cool water trickles blissfully down his throat.

“Wow,” Katsuki says once Viktor’s finished the water and stopped coughing. “That happened.”

“Your fault,” Viktor grumbles, voice hoarse, throat hurting.

“How was I supposed to know you were that into bondage?”

Viktor makes a dying animal noise that prompts Makkachin to nose at him in concern.

“He’s fine, Makkachin,” Katsuki tells, watching with unhidden amusement as she fusses over Viktor. “Your partner’s just silly.”

“How do you know her name?”

“I know everything,” Katsuki says, then grimaces, not looking at Viktor. “Anyway, come on, I’ve made food.”

“You’ve _what_?”

Katsuki doesn’t respond, just herds Viktor to one of the tables. Viktor allows it to happen, too dazed to do much else. He could try to fight Katsuki, but his body still aches from their last round, and it’s not like Katsuki seems to have any nefarious intentions towards him. If he did, he could have dealt with Viktor after taking him down.

He tries not to think too much about how Katsuki took him down, but the sway of Katsuki’s ass when he marches off to get their food does test him.

Soon, there’s an impressive pile of pancakes and a mysterious green syrup in front of him. The smell makes his mouth water, but Viktor resolutely looks away and smiles at Katsuki.

“Thank you, but I’m not really hungry.”

Katsuki looks up from his plate, frowning a little.

“…I heard your stomach growl while you were passed out, Viktor.”

“Oh.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes and circles over to Viktor’s side, hovering right behind him. The heat of him is palpable, and Viktor has to fight not to lean back against his body. He’s sure Katuski is standing closer than needed to do what he’s doing – which is cutting off a sizeable piece of pancake, slathering it in the oddly bright syrup, and putting it in his red, red mouth.

Viktor watches as Katsuki makes a show of chewing and swallowing the bite. The bob of his Adam’s apple is tantalizing. Viktor wants to lick it.

Katsuki raises a brow as if to say _See?_ and returns to his seat. Viktor still doesn’t touch the food. Katsuki says nothing, just sits there without eating his own share. Makkachin nudges them both under the table, begging for scraps, but Viktor has years of practice resisting the power of her puppy dog eyes. Katsuki looks torn, but takes one glance at Viktor and sighs, patting her apologetically instead.

When minutes tick by and Katsuki shows no signs of keeling over, Viktor relaxes a bit.

“Have fun fasting,” Katsuki says and finally digs into his own food.

Viktor watches him diminish three pancakes and follows suit.

“This is good,” he says after the first bite, green syrup and all.

“Thanks.” Katsuki flashes him a grin. “Secret recipe.”

There’s a flash of wariness at that, but Katsuki remains unaffected, and Viktor’s stomach reminds him that he hasn’t eaten anything since that handful of dry cereal in the morning. He fed Makka in the ship but ignored his own rations. He eats his fill but doesn’t give any to her, just in case.

Afterward, Katsuki collects the dishes and saunters away. Viktor hates to see him leave but loves to watch him go.

He’s back soon enough.

“Why are you doing all this?” Viktor asks, mellow from a belly full of food but not unaware of the potential danger of the situation. There are too many things he doesn’t know, and they make him uneasy. As does that piercing look in Katsuki’s eyes – but that also causes certain other effects.

“I guess I felt sorry for you,” Katsuki tells him, smirking. He looks at Makkachin, face softening. “Well, that and this little treasure being so worried about you. My rule of thumb is that anyone a dog truly loves can’t be that bad.” He leans over to look Viktor right in the eye, uncomfortably close. “I’d hate for you to prove me wrong, Viktor Nikiforov.”

Viktor’s heart is thundering in his chest. He sees Katsuki’s gaze slide down to his pulse and has to swallow when his eyes go dark and satisfied.

“My turn to ask questions now,” Katsuki murmurs, settling back on the bench. “How did you find us?”

“Using Yura’s data, of course,” Viktor answers, stiffening the next moment. He didn’t mean to say that. “Makka’s a Tracker.”

He slaps his hand over his mouth.

Katsuki’s smirk only grows.

“Truth serum,” he tells Viktor. “The harmless kind, don’t worry. There won’t be any unpleasant after-effects.”

The only modern truth serum that’s even remotely harmless has to be taken orally.

“You did spike the food,” Viktor says numbly. “You’ve built up tolerance, haven’t you?”

“Smart man,” Katsuki says, almost admiring. “You realize Yuri Plisetsky came to us voluntarily, yes?”

“You’re criminals,” Viktor finds himself replying. “He’s _sixteen_.”

“If he’d old enough to watch me work a pole, he’s old enough to be a smuggler. Oh, relax, I’m not saying I want him to be one. Let the kid decide. What do you plan to do anyway – haul him off by force?”

That would be precisely what Lilia expects him to do. Viktor’s hoping he can talk some sense into Yuri instead. That has worked before…sometimes.

Katsuki interprets Viktor’s silence as agreement.

“I expected better of you, Viktor.”

Viktor smiles thinly and this time, he doesn’t regret his forced honesty.

“It’s cute how you act like you have the moral high ground.” He stands up, bowing mockingly at Katsuki’s expressionless face. “Do excuse me, I have an errant cadet to retrieve.”

He could also arrest Katsuki, but somehow, Viktor doesn’t think he and Makkachin alone will be enough for that.

Viktor makes it as far as the door. It doesn’t open for him. Clicking on the manual override yields no results.

Behind him, Katsuki sighs.

Viktor whirls around and finds Katsuki closer than before, eyeing Viktor with amusement.

“Open the door.”

“Hmm, no.”

Katsuki walks – _struts_ – towards Viktor, easily backing him up against the wall. He wildly looks to Makkachin for help, but she’s curled up under one of the benches, sound asleep.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Katsuki purrs, and that shouldn’t in any way be seductive, but with Katsuki’s hands caging him in and one of his thighs slyly sliding in between Viktor’s legs, he’s hard-pressed to find anything about this man unsexy. “Look at me, Viktor, and tell me what you _really_ want.”

Viktor nearly bites through his lip trying to be quiet.

Katsuki is looking at him like he knows all the filthy things Viktor’s ever thought about him, like it’s all so amusing, like Viktor’s an entertaining toy and Katsuki’s itching to play.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know how much of that is him projecting.

Katsuki leans in, close enough for Viktor feel his breath on his mouth and see the red streaking his eyes.

“I know you want me,” Katsuki whispers, low and hot. “I need you to tell me, Viktor.”

Viktor shudders, hands rising to clutch at Katsuki’s jacket.

“Please put your thighs around my head.”

 

 


	5. Supernova, we'll fuse when we collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor discovers new galaxies. Yuuri grows short of breath and heavy of dick.

 

 

_Viktor shudders, hands rising to clutch at Katsuki’s jacket._

_“Please put your thighs around my head.”_

Yuuri lets himself blink, slowly, watching as Viktor watches him, and what a sight is that.

He’s – breathless, Yuuri can see: his chest moves quickly, shallowly, and there’s a lovely blush slowly blossoming on his cheeks.

Yuuri licks his lips. Perhaps, another time, in another galaxy, he’d like to take this further; Viktor’s beautiful – strong, and graceful, and wanting, and Yuuri can taste his arousal in the air just as sharply as he tasted the sweetness of the truth serum earlier.

In this galaxy, they have dogs to smuggle out. Yuuri’s just going to play for time and he’s going to play well.

He’s damn good at pretending.

He lifts a finger to trace Viktor’s lower lip, agonizingly slow. Perhaps he’s enjoying this too much; but Phichit is suspiciously quiet in his ear, and Yuuri doesn’t know if the dogs are safe. He needs to stall, and he needs to do it well. Is it really so bad if he gets some fun out of this?

He puts the finger in his mouth and licks, looking straight into Viktor’s blue eyes. His pupils are so dilated that the blue is almost gone; they are as dark as the whole galaxy, and it takes Yuuri a blink or two to get lost in them and find his way again.

Gods, he wants to kiss him. Fuck Chris and his poisoned lipstick.

“We need some more time,” Phichit’s voice in the earbud is both sudden and urgent, “one of the pups has gone rogue in the hallway and Beka lost another one in the commotion. I’ve tracked him down but he’s sniffing by your door, Yuuri. Stall a bit. Nikiforov seems to be quite keen on your thighs, you know.”

Yuuri has no means of replying; he just hopes that Makkachin won’t catch the scent of the puppy. The door’s not sound-proof and if the dog all but whimpers, they’re all gonna be so cooked.

Yuuri needs to act and he needs to act quickly.

He’s got a few ideas.

“My thighs around your head,” he repeats after Viktor, watching with satisfaction as the man’s skin turns a delicious shade of pink.  “Is that what you want?”

Viktor takes a breath, a loud, audible one, and nods his head. No, Yuuri thinks; that won’t do. He leans closer, close enough that he can almost kiss Viktor’s ear.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispers.

Viktor shudders. Yuuri can’t help but smirk. He makes a beautiful sight, he really does, and Yuuri is going to enjoy taking him apart.

“Yes,” Viktor then whispers back, as if he couldn’t find his voice.

Yuuri waits. He quirks his lips.

“Louder,” he says. “Didn’t I tell you I want to hear you say it?”

Something changes in Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri would almost miss it, but he watches him carefully, like a cat, and – yes, there. A flicker.

“Put your thighs around my head,” Viktor then says, voice coarse, and Yuuri wants, he wants so badly---

“Found one pup! One more to go!” Phichit chirps. “Holy shit, Yuuri, I’m out. This is getting R-rated. Get these thighs some action, space boy!”

Yuuri needs to fight off the urge to roll his eyes, and sadly it’s not the only urge he needs to fight off. He shifts, taking a step back, watching Viktor – he’s waiting, they both are, and oh, there it is, that flicker again.

Yuuri was right.

Viktor attacks, a swift blow to Yuuri’s solar plexus. Yuuri snorts, evades, dances away like it’s nothing.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he asks, “I thought you liked it rough.”

He’s thankful that he stretched before; it’s all muscle memory now, all the countless hours of sparring with Chris and Mari, only now he’s even faster, lighter, more unpredictable. He moves and he blocks and he laughs and he strikes, and really, Viktor is good – almost as good as Yuuri, but no one has really been as good as Yuuri, not since he last beat Minako – Viktor is good, but he’s slower, and he’s dazed, and Yuuri can’t help but play with him a little.

He never can say no to a good workout.

“Come on,” he laughs when Viktor rolls away from him, “I thought you wanted me around your head – you need to step closer for that.”

Viktor’s spread on the floor, flushed, and Yuuri loves the sight of him. He decides to admire from a distance, assuming the previous nonchalant pose. Viktor finally scrambles to his feet, and Yuuri cocks his hip and tilts his head.

Yuuri licks his lips. He does enjoy watching Viktor falter.

“Well?” he says. “I’m here. Waiting.”

“I’m gonna have you arrested,” Viktor pants. It’s an – interesting – sound, one that goes straight into Yuuri’s dick, and Yuuri really, really shouldn’t be thinking about it now. He’s supposed to be just a distraction, nothing more; he shouldn’t be having his own fun, should he? “You can’t win this.”

Fuck that, Yuuri thinks, because Viktor is certainly the most interesting thing that has happened to him ever since he accidentally seduced Chris while they were independently trying to save the same poor kitten at an exclusive pole dancing show. Fuck that, Yuuri thinks, because Viktor’s eyes are dark and he might be fighting his principles, but he wants Yuuri as much as Yuuri wants him. Fuck that, Yuuri thinks, he wants the thighs, he’s gonna get them.

“I can’t win it?” he repeats. “I didn’t realize we agreed on the prize.”

There’s a curious pause and Yuuri reaches into his pocket; Viktor instantly tenses, but all Yuuri does it take out a white handkerchief and press it to his lips, wiping the lipstick clean. It’s not like he’s going to kill his target with a kiss.

“Don’t worry,” he taunts, waving the white cloth around and dropping it on the floor, “It’s not a white flag - I’m not giving up.” He sends Viktor a smirk, because why not - they’re both adults here. “On the contrary.”

Yuuri has to give it to him: Viktor is relentless. He lunges towards Yuuri again, and Yuuri dodges swiftly. It’s really not Yuuri’s fault that he’s showing off a little; Viktor does seem to enjoy Yuuri’s thighs, after all.

And Yuuri, a dancer, has learnt to please his audience.

“A prize?” Viktor says, voice strained, returning to their previous conversation, “You’re the prize, Katsuki. Don’t you get it? I’m gonna bring you into custody before you know it.”

Yuuri doesn’t reply. He moves into a flawless flying kick aimed right at Viktor, who ducks but barely. Yuuri lands safely on his feet and ends up on the floor, knees bent, mind alert, pants tight. Viktor all but jumps at him and Yuuri can’t help but laugh – they exchange blows so swift they could be dancing. It’s – freeing, exhilarating – to have Viktor so close. Yuuri can smell it, he can hear him panting, he can see his flushed skin, and this is how he knows: he will take Viktor apart and Viktor will let him.

Viktor will adore it.

And then, Yuuri sees it, a small opening Viktor makes. He pushes him until Viktor’s on the floor, silver hair spread around his head like a halo. Yuuri’s as fast as a lightning, keeping Viktor in an armlock, his thighs just near Viktor’s head.

He laughs. It’s been a while since he had such a fight. The sound seems to startle Viktor; he shifts underneath Yuuri, and Yuuri moves until he’s on top of him, free to lock their eyes.

It’s curious, he thinks, how Viktor doesn’t seem to realize they’re not fighting anymore.

“Really, Viktor. You could try to make me come with you,” he grins into Viktor’s ear, “or I could make you come. It’s your call. What would you enjoy more?”

Silence falls, the kind measured by heartbeats. All Yuuri does is smirk.

And then Viktor kisses him.

This is how stars collide, Yuuri thinks, and then he loses his mind to the feel of Viktor’s lips against his own. Viktor still tastes of the sweetly sharp tingle of the truth serum, but mostly simply like Viktor, unique, the only one in the whole universe, and Yuuri could – and he will – get drunk on this.

There’s nothing soft about the kiss, not with Yuuri still locking Viktor’s body underneath his. He lets go slowly, still careful – Viktor wouldn’t be the first one to try and seduce Yuuri out of a fight, and he won’t be the first one to succeed. So Yuuri lets their bodies separate, one lost press of the skin after another, but he makes sure to kiss him still.

He almost tenses – almost – but Viktor’s body goes lax and soon he’s back on his feet and he’s _closer._ He kisses the same way Yuuri sometimes likes to surge into the sky, the spaceship tearing through the galaxy like a comet – reckless, daring, unafraid to fall.

And Yuuri all but forgets the mission, the stalling, the pretense. He’ll gladly fall with him.

Viktor clutches at Yuuri’s leather jacket, hands bold and insistent, and before Yuuri knows it, it flies down on the floor just as Yuuri rips a button off Viktor’s rugged uniform.

“You know,” Yuuri says in between kisses, “I’d be thrilled if you like it hard on the floor, but I’ve got a bed that might be more comfortable.”

Viktor takes a moment to reply, too busy kissing his way down Yuuri’s neck and finding the spot just above Yuuri’s collarbone that makes Yuuri tilt his head back.

He can almost see the stars and they haven’t even done more than kiss, Yuuri realizes, and he knows – it’s going to be electric.

“Bed,” Viktor then says and suddenly, Yuuri’s thrown back into the world. “What are we even waiting for?”

Yuuri wordlessly manoeuvres them around, pushing Viktor with his thighs, and they half-dance, half-kiss towards the door. He knows Phichit’s clocked out when he has to open the door on his own, a sloppy press of buttons just as Viktor presses their lips together, and soon they’re out of the room and running down the corridor, Yuuri giggling, tugging at Viktor’s hand and making him forget his shirt just on the doorstep as they enter Yuuri’s room. Yuuri wastes no time – no time at all – to shut the door close and press Viktor’s body against the stainless steel.

Viktor’s fingers dance on Yuuri’s thighs, and soon they move to tease at his belt. Yuuri sighs into the crook of Viktor’s neck, kissing hard, breathless, like he can’t get enough of him. It’s a sweet torture, the way Viktor’s fingers play near Yuuri’s dick, and Yuuri _wants_ him so much, it’s galvanizing.

Viktor makes a curious noise, something a bit like a soft whimper, a bit like a moan. It travels straight down to Yuuri’s dick, and Yuuri really, really can’t believe this man exists, not even after he’s been to different planets, not even after he’s seen constellations. Viktor moans into Yuuri’s ear and Yuuri can’t help it. He undresses him hurriedly, needily.

“Bed?” he asks, because as much as he’s going to enjoy wrecking Viktor like this, the stainless steel door is cold against Viktor’s back.

“Thighs,” Viktor just gasps into his mouth, and Yuuri laughs, for once completely unsurprised and yet speechless.

“Thighs in bed,” he agrees, and Viktor jerks his head up. His eyes are blue, so impossibly blue even in the darkish room. Yuuri can’t believe he gets to see this man like this.

Viktor all but pushes Yuuri onto the bed, and Yuuri lets him, heat building up in his body at the thought of Viktor wanting him. He falls against the pillows and buckles his hips to help Viktor slide his trousers down his legs.

And then Viktor suddenly stills. Yuuri reaches out to touch his hand, but Viktor meets his eyes with a smile and stardust in his own, and he just begins to trace his fingers down Yuuri’s thighs, slow, wondrous.

“Are you—“ Yuuri starts, still holding Viktor’s other hand, but Viktor just smiles as he breathes out, suddenly looking so much _more_ like everything when he says—

“Thirsty, yes,” and then he dives in between Yuuri’s thighs as if he never wished to be anywhere else in the galaxy.

Viktor begins to kiss Yuuri’s inner thighs as if he’s tasting something luscious and exquisite, as if he could never get enough, and Yuuri gets short of breath. He can’t hold back the buck of his hips, his dick heavy. Viktor’s touch against his skin grows more insistent, harder, and then Viktor’s teeth graze his skin, hesitant.

Yuuri gasps.

Viktor gets bolder, needy, unashamed, and Yuuri loses himself to the bite of his teeth, his legs spread apart just as his soul, and he’s close to screaming.

And then Viktor stops. He looks up like this, a lustful expression on his face, his hair dishevelled, and he gives Yuuri a satisfied, intense smirk.

 

 

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Yuuri manages, voice hitched, but Viktor just blinks at him.

“Yuuri,” he draws, and it’s so close to a moan that Yuuri almost melts into the pillows, “but I’m only getting started.”

And quick like Yuuri’s heartbeat, he grabs Yuuri’s buttcheeks and Yuuri gasps, and Viktor hoists him up in the air and then his mouth is around Yuuri’s dick, and Yuuri discovers the idea of zero gravity.

Yuuri loses his mind to the velvet of Viktor’s mouth around his dick, and then there’s no more Yuuri – just shallow rasps of breaths and helpless twitches of flesh, heat growing in his belly and all sense lost to the little keen slurps Viktor makes, and there’s a movement, too – a grab of silver hair in his hand, and it goes on and on and on.

And then it stops as Viktor pops his mouth and raises his silver head up as much as Yuuri’s hand lets him.

He looks wrecked.

“Yuuri, please,” he says, “fuck my face.”

His mouth envelops Yuuri again the moment he’s done speaking, and he’s there, eager and ready, and so Yuuri moves his hips, slow, shallow, fingers sliding down Viktor’s hair. Viktor lets out a noise, insistent, impatient, and Yuuri bucks his hips just a tiny bit more. Viktor hums, needy, and Yuuri gives in, thrusting against the back of Viktor’s throat, and then _oh,_ Yuuri’s head falls back onto the pillows and he pushes and pushes into Viktor’s mouth, and Viktor whines and lets him.

“I’m gonna—“ Yuuri finally manages, catching his breath, “do you want to stop?”

Viktor opens his eyes and looks at him, his eyes impossibly dark, and he gives a minute shake of his head, Yuuri’s dick still in his mouth.

“You sure?”

All Viktor does is take Yuuri deeper, deep enough he gags. He waits until Yuuri begins to thrust again and then makes an enthusiastic little noise that brings Yuuri close to the edge, and then Viktor sucks and Yuuri’s toes curl and Viktor strokes his thigh with his mouth still around him.

Light years pass, or maybe they don’t. When Yuuri finally looks up, Viktor smiles at him from between his thighs, a pale drool of Yuuri’s come smeared on his chin like the milky way.

Yuuri’s thighs are trembling, but he reaches out and pulls Viktor closer so that he’s on top of him, close enough that Yuuri can kiss him, and so he does, little pecks all over his face like stars.

“You were incredible,” he tells him. Viktor’s lips are swollen against his own. “Amazing.”

He still feels it in the faint, passing tremble of his muscles. Viktor looks smug and almost bashful, and he’s so flushed that the blush spreads down to his chest.

Yuuri’s mind might not fully return to him yet, but he does have a few ideas what to do to a man with a chest like this. The mere thought of this would be enough; but now Viktor’s body presses against his, and Yuuri feels himself already growing harder. He kisses Viktor once again, just because he can, and Viktor goes pliant in his arms.

“What do you want?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor tilts his head down so that he can lick into Yuuri’s earlobe. One of his hands move down Yuuri’s chest and then even lower until it begins to stroke his dick, now half-hard.

“Do you really need to ask?” Viktor says. “Where do you keep your lube?”

Yuuri wordlessly reaches to his tiny bedside table. It takes a bit of shuffling – he doesn’t take his eyes off Viktor and a longish moment passes before he grabs both the lube and a package of condoms.

Yuuri doesn’t usually like this moment; with a few of his previous one-night-stands, the pause meant a lot of tension turned into cringy awkwardness.

With Viktor, it’s electrifying.

His eyes go wide when he spots the condoms, and he seems to be thinking for a second or two before he grabs the condom from Yuuri’s hand with a forcefully whispered “Let me.”

Yuuri lets him. Viktor falls to his knees and Yuuri doesn’t even need his touch now, he gets hard just watching him like this, eager, wanting, and looking like he wished to be nowhere else in the whole galaxy. He rolls the condom up with ease, and his touch makes Yuuri twitch. He can still feel the soft pressure of Viktor’s mouth from before, and Viktor is so close again. It’s tantalizing.

“You want me,” Viktor then says, and there’s something in his voice that tells Yuuri this: he wonders.

It makes Yuuri wonder, too, because Viktor’s here before him, ravishing, and Yuuri wants all of him, and he wants all of him now.

“Was there ever any doubt?” he asks.

It just takes a second – he flips them over, Viktor on the mattress with his face to the pillows, and Yuuri grabs his legs and props him on his knees and Viktor lets him, and then he finally cups Viktor’s ass and gives it a squeeze.

Viktor gives out a sigh in return.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” Yuuri tells him, pulling Viktor by the hips, one hand teasing his balls. Viktor whimpers like he’s completely helpless, and Yuuri can’t get enough of the sight of him. He recalls what Viktor told him moments ago, and now it’s his turn. “Will you let me?”

Viktor lets out a sob; Yuuri can see him nodding into the pillow, so he dives in, bending so that he can kiss his way down the line of Viktor’s spine. He leaves a trail of smooches on Viktor’s ass, and does it feel amazing under his mouth, both perky and soft, and Yuuri needs to taste all of him.

It always sends a thrill down his spine, and it’s no different now – Viktor trembles under the butterflies of Yuuri’s mouth, and Yuuri licks and kisses and hums until he is sure Viktor feels his desire in all of his nerve endings.

He circles the rim with his tongue until it’s flushed and Viktor turns into a trembling mess on the bed, and only then does Yuuri lube his fingers up. He plants a kiss on Viktor’s hip as he goes in.

Viktor’s fingers grasp at the bed sheets. Yuuri runs his hand down Viktor’s spine, as if to calm him down, but he knows it’s for nothing – not when he begins to curl his finger and _move,_ and Viktor clenches hot around him and moves too, helpless.

“More,” he says, and who Yuuri is to refuse?

Soon, he scissors two fingers and works on stretching Viktor wide, and he’s so painfully hard at the sight of Viktor spread on the bed like this, almost ready to be taken and so eager for it.

“More,” Viktor moans again, impatient. Yuuri pushes his third finger in and his dick stirs at Viktor’s rugged exhale. Viktor’s breath is uneven now. Yuuri works him open, taking his time, but Viktor wiggles his butt and he turns his head around to look at Yuuri, his silver hair scattered on the pillows like starlight.

“I’m ready,” he pants, “Yuuri – take me.”

“Not yet,” Yuuri says. He still has work to do. “Soon, I promise.”

He scissors his fingers again and Viktor _moans,_ and Yuuri does it again just because he can. If Viktor looked wrecked before, he’s a decadent work of art now, hair like starlight, nebulas of reddened skin on his ass.

And then he pulls his fingers out. He grabs Viktor by his hips and pulls him up so they’re both standing, and Viktor lets out a surprised yelp but Yuuri silences him, tilting his head and losing them both to a kiss.

“Turn round,” he finally whispers. When Viktor does, he kisses his shoulder blades – there are specks of freckles there like shooting stars – and then he reaches around and runs his hands against Viktor’s inner thighs.

“Viktor,” he says, “I think you’re ready now, aren’t you?”

And then he leans in to kiss Viktor’s neck, his cock pressing into Viktor’s butt. Viktor makes a keen noise and tilts his head back, and it’s all the invitation Yuuri needs to push his hands against Viktor’s thighs so that he’d spread them further apart. Viktor wordlessly widens his stance and Yuuri nibs at his earlobe, tender.

“Hold tight,” he says.

Then he’s lost. He’s lost in the gasp Viktor makes; he’s lost under the weight of Viktor’s body as he locks Viktor’s thighs with his arms in a lift; he’s lost in the hot, musky scent he can smell on Viktor’s pale long neck. And he’s lost in Viktor, too, in the impossible tight warmth of his body, in the way Viktor screams.

Viktor’s equally lost, Yuuri knows it. He loves every second of it.

Viktor’s arm is thrown over Yuuri’s shoulder; he leans onto Yuuri so that Yuuri has no other choice, he feels compelled to kiss him – Viktor’s collarbone is just right next to his lips, after all, and it looks so enticing. He measures his thrusts with kisses, and it’s just like that – Viktor comes apart inflamed with every push, and Yuuri’s with him all the way, gasping, greedy, and not quite believing into Viktor’s impossible body.

Viktor tilts his head back so that his Adam’s apple is just in Yuuri’s line of sight, and it’s a sight so tempting Yuuri almost loses the rhythm, the paleness of Viktor’s skin ethereal like a skyline. Yuuri needs him, he needs him more and more with every thrust, every moan. He needs him, he feels him through the burn of his muscles and the salt on his skin, and he knows – he can’t have more of him, no more – he’s got everything now.

“Yuuri, I’m—“

“I’m close too,” he tells Viktor; it hurts to say that, in a strange, impossible way, because he’s close – as close to Viktor as he can be, and he’s coming closer, and he can’t be any closer to him because words work in meaningless ways and the only one that matters is Viktor, Viktor in his arms and Viktor on his cock, and Viktor with his eyes closed shut and mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as Yuuri makes him see the stars before becoming one of them, too.

Later, they entangle their limbs in the white rumpled bed sheets. Yuuri’s eyelids are heavy, but he still watches Viktor’s chest rise and fall. He counts all the constellations of freckles on his skin. He wants to kiss them all.

He doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the fic finally lives up to the tags! Please note that all complaints about the lack of dicks are now declared null and void (we accept excited screaming instead)
> 
> Chapter title from Starset's Telescope.
> 
> [Chii](https://chiinoiserie.tumblr.com/post/171900313902/embrace-day-20180315-inspired-by-thighs-in) made this wonderful piece of Viktor discovering some thighs!!! in space <3 <3


	6. I'll soar the endless skies for only one sight of your starlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we're done.
> 
> For now...

**Seven Months Later**

 

It’s a little surreal how easy it has become to pilot Ciao Ciao. It’s entirely different from Yakov with its patched up exterior and slightly old fashioned controls, but Viktor has always appreciated how each ship has its own sliver of personality and figuring out Ciao Ciao has been fun. It helps that Makkachin seems to like it, integrating seamlessly with the ship’s interface ever since Viktor cleared it safe enough.

Privately, he suspects that his smooth sailing has something to do with the actions of Yuuri’s hacker. But what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Besides, at this point, Viktor has to trust Yuuri. He’s walking into a trap otherwise. It helps that he has plenty of solid evidence gathered from months of flying around three different galaxies to back up this decision. Even Viktor’s not so far gone for a pair of thick thighs that he’ll jeopardize his and Makka’s lives and their mission for a booty call.

Not that this is a booty call.

Not _really_ …

Makkachin’s new friend yips judgmentally at Viktor.

He resists the urge to slam his face into the control panels and instead roots through his pocket until he finds his anchor, the only thing that kept him calm and focused on what seemed at first like a never-ending mystery and then a fruitless crusade.

It’s a note, white, one edge torn from where someone tore it from a larger piece of paper. The handwriting on it is neat and oddly bland, not really suiting the personality of the man who wrote it. Some of it’s hard to read now, the words faded and paper crumbled from the hundreds of times it’s been read and fingered and folded up. Viktor knows the words by heart now, but his eyes run over each black line with desperate intent.

 

_My Viktor,_

_Presumptuous, even now, to call you that. But you were mine, weren’t you, just for a few hours? I’ll remember them fondly. You won’t, I think._

_I can’t let you catch me. I’ve come too far, done too much, to let this end now. I can’t hurt you either, though it would be the wise thing to do. We are all a little foolish sometimes. And you and I both were when we laid hands on each other._

_I don’t regret it._

_I can’t stay. I won’t demand that you not come after me, but I will make you work for it. Forget tracking Yuri – his data won’t remain in your records much longer. We’ll take care of him, and if he ever wishes to leave, we will let him go. You don’t need to worry. Criminals we may be, Viktor, but we are what we are for a reason._

_Would you like to find out?_

_It’s up to you._

_Follow the trail._

_I’ll be taking Yakov. It’s faster, after all, and I have a feeling I’ll need to be well away from you by the time you wake. Don’t bother tracking the ship either. You know better by now. Be nice to Ciao Ciao. I expect you to return him to me one day._

_Goodbye, Viktor._

_I’ll remember your taste, light years away._

Under them were the names of a galaxy, a planet, and a series of numbers – coordinates.

Viktor touches a spot near the base, the mark his tear made long gone but fresh in his memory. He didn’t cry the first time he read the note, nor the second, nor the third. He was angry, incandescent – betrayed.

The tears came later, when life seemed dull and hollow without a man Viktor had only known for a handful of precious hours and the regret that seemed to have seeped into the note tore at his heart.

It’s foolish, and Lilia would the first to tell him that for all that she has allowed him to continue his wild goose chase. But his time with Yuuri was electric. Viktor didn’t realize that he had been fading for so long until he felt alive again.

He doesn’t regret anything he has done. Even if this is a trap and all Yuuri wants is his ship back, there’s no way Viktor can quietly go back to being a SPACE officer knowing what he does.

He takes one last look at 3A-3T, a tiny, unobtrusive tourist planet situated cozily in the middle of its solar system. It doesn’t even have a moon, and the only notable trait it has are the naturally occurring hot springs scattered across its pale blue expanse.

For Viktor, it’s the light at the end of a very grey tunnel.

He’s certain that they know he’s here, hovering, uncertain. And when his permission to land is immediately green-lighted, that’s all but confirmed. With butterflies suffocating him from the inside, Viktor does what he needs to. Makkachin and the little one are reassuring presences by his side, sticking close as if they know he needs their strength. It only makes Viktor more determined to see this to the end.

He leaves them behind when he exits the ship. He no longer believes Yuuri and his crew will harm animals in any way, but well, Yuuri did drug Makkachin last time. A harmless sedative, much like the truth serum he used on Viktor, but it’s not a risk he wants to take again.

It’s not Yuuri who greets him and for all that it’s expected, Viktor still feels a sting of hurt.

The woman who escorts him to civilization introduces herself as Sara Crispino. She’s a stranger to Viktor and striking enough with her long black hair, purple eyes, and lithe body swathed in a studded leather jacket to be remembered after just one sight. Then again, they have very little information on Yuuri’s crew. For all Viktor knows, all the strangers shuffling about the little seaside town Sara leads him to are complicit in the smuggling.

No, not smuggling. _Rescue_.

That was a hard pill to swallow. But Viktor has never been in the habit of blinding himself to truth, and it didn’t take long for Yuuri’s “trail” to expose him to it. And now he’s here in this deceptively peaceful planet that’s a criminal stronghold, except that these criminals have stronger moral fiber than most officers Viktor has met.

“Yuuri’s been waiting, you know,” Sara tells him the first words she’s spoken since that warmly formal introduction. “I think he likes you.”

There’s a wink, and then she turns on her heels and marches back the way they came. Viktor almost calls after her except that he notices she left him at the gates of a large, sprawling compound with ‘Yu-topia Hot Spring Resort’ carved at the top.

Viktor takes a deep breath, collects himself, and walks forward.

 

* * *

 

It’s not Yuuri that he finds inside.

It’s Yuri.

He looks well. The grumpy cat expression he wears is familiar, but the large dog with patchwork fur that sits at his feet is not.

“Aren’t you a cat person?” Viktor asks, more out of stunned surprise than anything else.

“Shut up. This furball started following me around, and it’s not like I can kick puppies.”

“Puppy,” Viktor repeats blandly, looking at the admittedly beautiful creature that stands level with Yuri’s hips.

“He grew, okay!” Yuri protests. “And I do have a cat. Potya and Sasha get along just fucking fine. Lay off.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

Yuri just frowns, something like fear flickering across his face before it’s buried under forced anger.

“Whatever. The pervert is expecting you. You have shitty timing but serves him right anyway.”

Viktor has no idea what any of that even means but when Yuri walks deeper into the resort, apparently abandoning his place at the reception, Viktor follows suit. Questions linger on his tongue but he swallows them, partly because he knows there will be no answers and partly because he’s not even sure if Yuri is the one who has them.

He looks well and happy except at Viktor’s presence. That’s enough.

Yuri leads him to the hot springs, insisting that Viktor follow proper procedure and change before going inside. He does so easily enough; Sara patted him down and confiscated his blaster, so all Viktor has on him are clothes. He still feels exposed in just a towel, but Yuri’s the one who turns away and marches off in a huff.

Viktor has enough sense to know precisely whom he’ll find in the hot spring.

It’s the only reason why he doesn’t do more than stifle a gasp and gape when he walks in and finds Yuuri bare-chested in the water. There’s more of him that’s bare too, but he’s submerged from waist downwards which is a mixed blessing because Viktor knows what he looks like and also knows that he cannot have anything resembling a mature, rational discussion with this man if he’s too distracted staring at his dick.

Yuuri, who has his head tipped back and eyes closed, doesn’t notice him until Viktor clears his throat.

He lifts his head lazily, and the startled jerk that seizes his body when he registers who has joined him is oddly satisfying.

“Hello, Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

In spite of Viktor’s secret hopes, they do not talk in the hot spring. Yuuri scrambles to dress, generously flashing Viktor in the meantime and leaving him frozen until Yuuri bullies him into a robe-like garment that falls to his thighs and matching pants. Yuuri’s wearing the same, and Viktor doesn’t even try not to stare at the way he looks so drastically different from anything Viktor has ever seen before.

Viktor has been enamored by all versions of Katsuki Yuuri that he’s encountered. This one, softer in some ways and perplexing in others, is no different.

Yuuri doesn’t lead him back inside but instead takes him to a garden enclosed in tall, willowy trees with small purple flowers that sway to the breeze and glow brightly in the dim evening light. There’s a table with a pre-packaged water bottle with the seal intact placed in the middle and chairs around it.

“I figure you won’t trust me to feed you anymore,” Yuuri says when he catches Viktor eyeing the bottle.

Viktor barely trusts even this bottle but well, he’s not thirsty anyway.

Then he catches a glimpse of Yuuri’s collarbone and amends that to, _Not literally thirsty at least._

“So. You came.”

“I did.”

Yuuri watches him for a moment, brown eyes unreadable. He looks different with his hair down, drying and spread over his forehead. It has nothing of the slicked-back severity of his seduction or the gorgeous disarray of his sex hair. It’s cute though, so much so that Viktor has trouble looking away.

He remembers thinking, in one delirious moment with Yuuri’s cock in his ass and tongue in his mouth, that he could fall for this man like a blazing comet tearing through space. It’s a notion he hasn’t entertained since but this Yuuri – he looks like someone Viktor can come home to.

He swallows the lump in his throat and hopes none of his thoughts show on his face.

“You know, don’t you?” Yuuri asks after several minutes of silence. “What I am, what we do?”

Viktor nods.

“You’re not here to arrest me.”

Viktor considers playing at ambivalence but hums his assent in the end, trying and failing not to be affected when Yuuri brightens up at that.

“Ah, I’m glad,” he tells, voice lowered as if in confession. “I hoped you’d choose this. But I admit I was very selfish with you.”

“Selfish how?” Viktor asks, nearly wincing when his voice cracks at the start.

“I risked everything,” Yuuri says, “giving you that hint. I knew you were a smart man. It stood to reason that you’d find our safe haven.”

“But I couldn’t have made it this far without knowing why you do what you do. You made sure of that.”

Yuuri grins, so sharply pleased that Viktor has to do a double take and calm the treacherous racing of his heart.

“Yes. But you’re a good man too, or so I believed.”

“Must have been a very firm belief,” Viktor murmurs, a little breathless.

“No, not at all. More intuition than anything.” Yuuri stands suddenly, clapping his hands. “Well, it all worked out in the end. Did you see Yura?”

“When I came in,” Viktor answers, also rising. “Yuuri, what happens now?”

Yuuri’s jovial smile disappears, eyes narrowing a little. He doesn’t look at Viktor but at the threes. His eyes grow an eerie red in their light.

“You tell me,” Yuuri finally says, all calm and cold. “It’s your choice.”

“If I just want to take Yakov and Yura and leave, will you let me?”

“Yakov, yes. Yura is his own person. You can talk to him, but I imagine you know how that will turn out. But you can leave, yes. We’ll have to shift bases and that will be inconvenient, not to mention expensive.” Yuuri bows his head, a strange smile twisting his lips. “That was always a risk. I’ll take responsibility.”

“And if I stay?”

Yuuri’s head shoots up, and the look in his eyes is not hope but Viktor doesn’t know what else to call it.

“Then you stay,” Yuuri says, like it’s as simple as that.

“I want to show you something,” Viktor says instead of choosing. “Will you come with me? Alone?”

It’s a test. Viktor won’t deny that. But he trusted Yuuri, even when he didn’t want to. He’s not so selfless that he doesn’t want that trust returned. They connected that day with more than their bodies. It would be nice if that has survived the time and distance.

Yuuri comes around the table to stand toe-to-toe with Viktor who meets his piercing gaze calmly.

“Okay. I will.”

 

* * *

 

Viktor takes him to Ciao Ciao. He’s not blind to the people that wave at Yuuri in the streets, some of them accompanied by dogs of varying sizes and shapes that all happily wag their tails at Yuuri. He stops to pet each one and Viktor stops with him, heart galloping wildly when Yuuri introduces each one to Viktor with a voice so fond it _hurts_.

Sara greets them at the station, waving at Yuuri from her cozy chair and shooting Viktor a suggestive smirk. He hurriedly turns away.

The ship’s doors barely close behind them before the puppies are on them, Makkachin controlled only as she is during work while the little one jumps at his leg with no such restraint. Viktor presses his nose to Makka’s, scoops the little one up, and turns to Yuuri.

“I found him,” Viktor says without preamble, “in one of _their_ recently abandoned facilities. All evidence suggests that he’s a failed experiment. I don’t know the details of what they did to him, but he’s exceptionally sensitive to my emotional state. Even more than Makka which is saying something. It’s not natural.”

“A kinder ability than those they usually go for,” Yuuri mutters, frowning for a moment before grinning at the puppy. “But that’s probably why they discarded him. Hello, sweetheart. Do you have a name?”

“He doesn’t,” Viktor replies. “I figured you should do the honors.”

Yuuri’s eyes fly to his, wide and shining.

“He’s for me.”

“Well, you do rescue dogs. And he’s – I just – I don’t know. I wanted you to have him.”

Yuuri walks over and takes the puppy from Viktor. He immediately sets about licking Yuuri’s face, nuzzling his new human with unrestrained delight. Yuuri’s laughter curls around Viktor, warmth flushing through his veins.

“I love him,” Yuuri breathes, pressing a kiss to the puppy’s nose. “You’re Viktor.”

“Uh, yes?”

Yuuri shoots him a mischievous smile.

“No, not you. This pretty thing. Viktor, in your honor. Vicchan for short. Sound good?”

“I – you’re naming him after me?”

“You rescued him. It seems appropriate. Why, are you offended?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I love it,” Viktor snaps before backing off a step, ears heating. Yuuri follows, the slant of his eyes predatory despite the wriggling puppy in his arms. Yuuri bends to set him down and steps even closer to Viktor, the sudden proximity dizzying.

“If Vicchan’s mine, are you as well?”

“I’m not staying,” Viktor blurts and hurries to clarify when Yuuri’s face falls. “I’ve built up connections in SPACE. And I’m Lilia Baranovskaya’s First Officer. That’s too much power and influence to just throw away. I’m too high profile to be of any use in your rescue operations, but this way, I can actually help. Information, a man inside, cover-ups – whatever you need, I’ll help.”

By the time he finishes, Yuuri’s eyes are huge with shock.

“You – but you’d be putting everything at risk. You life, your career! Viktor–”

“Careful, Yuuri, now you’re being a hypocrite.”

Yuuri’s mouth falls shut, _pouting_. Viktor is helpless not to reach out and take that breathtakingly beautiful face in his hands. Yuuri leans into the touch, eyes closing for a moment before they drift open, infinitely softer.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says quietly. “Are you mine, Viktor?”

“Do you want me?”

“More than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.”

Viktor doesn’t know if it’s relief or pleasure that floods his chest and at the moment, he’s in no state to care.

“You can have me. If I can have you.”

Yuuri smiles and answers with a kiss that throbs to the beat of Viktor’s heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A note from Vox_ : This is my first collab, and to be honest, I never thought I'd ever do one. But I have and all the credit goes to Kaja who came up with the idea for this project, fleshed it out, held some very interesting conversations, and is also the best writing partner and the kindest, sweetest friend. This wouldn't exist without her. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for all your support <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Cady, who is wonderful and deserves a horde of puppies. We can't give you puppies, but we can give you dicks in space, so we will. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is [Cady's](http://eternalsunshine13.tumblr.com) tumblr if you want to give her some more love, which she absolutely deserves cause she's Amazing. And this is [Vox's](http://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com) and [ Kaja's, ](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com) if you want to scream to us about the fic.


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